The Graveyard
by HolidayBoredom
Summary: Where fanfics come to die. First story to come out of storage - "Gift Wrapped". In which some of you might remember Opal Koboi getting Artemis as a Christmas pressie. Read on to find out whether that's actually as kinky as it sounds.
1. Chapter 1

**This is where I'm going to dump all my old fics which were never continued and most probably never will be. I put them up for adoption a few months back but nothing came of it... SO here they are - for people to enjoy as they will :)**

**This one I wrote Christmas... 2010? So a little out of season but oh well. **

**Cheers!**

Disclaimer - I've said it time and time again! No.1 would have died within his first few sentences.

* * *

**Gift-Wrapped**

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Chapter One – In Which Christmas Gets Off To A Lively Start

_Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a__  
__creature was stirring but a boy and an elf..._

'Gods it's nice to have you back.'

Artemis smiled. 'It is nice to be back. Being lost within one's own  
mind is an experience I never wish to repeat.'

'I'll bet.'

Holly sat up and poked at a bauble dangling from the bed-canopy. It  
was one of the many festive trinkets that Angeline Fowl had attached  
to her son's furniture either by tape, blue tack or in some cases,  
rivets. His third desk had been replaced by a seven-foot pine tree  
and his book case now housed several, football-sized, snow-globes.

'Your mum sure knows how to decorate a place.'

'Hmm,' agreed Artemis, folding his arms behind his head. 'She has  
always strived to make things appear as perfect as possible.'

Holly looked back at the boy stretched out amongst the pillows. 'So  
tomorrow's Christmas right? What will you do for it?'

'I'm not quite sure. Mother will presumably try to make it as  
traditional a day as possible what with the twins being so young. We  
will probably open presents, pull crackers, eat turkey, burn logs...'

'Just a typical mud-man Christmas then?'

Artemis sighed and closed his eyes. 'Indeed.'

Holly lay back again, settling herself comfortably beside her old  
friend. 'And is that okay?'

'It's perfect.'

She glanced at him.

'Really?'

Artemis nodded. 'Certainly. I have realised Holly, at long last, that  
this is all I want. No vendettas, no plots, no more eager hunts or  
sprints into the dangerous unknown.'

Holly felt something press gently to her hand and jumped. The teenager  
had rolled to face her with soft eyes and a peaceful smile.

'I am tired,' he said, and you could hear his exhaustion rasp in every  
syllable. 'I have had enough. Tomorrow I will begin the life I should  
have seized many years ago. I will join my family at long last and  
give them the son and brother they deserve, not the deplorable  
creature I have thus far been inflicting upon them.'

The elf's mouth dropped open. Artemis laughed at her expression and  
for once it sounded easy, natural.

He lay back on his arms again. 'Don't be so surprised Holly, you know  
this has been coming...'

'Well, well, yes,' she stuttered, a grin beginning to break its way  
through her shock. 'But I never thought it would actually happen! My  
Gods! Artemis Fowl, finally giving up the game.'

'Butler's delighted,' noted Artemis. 'He says he'll have more time for  
the garden now I won't be doing things that might get it blown up.'

Holly cackled deliciously. 'I could picture him at that, in a sunhat  
and dungarees.'

The teenager grinned. 'What do you think I've got him for Christmas?'

They laughed together at that, long and hard, picturing the Eurasian  
manservant in a variety of kitsch garden wear. Eventually, Holly let  
out a long sigh and one, final giggle before sitting up.

'I'm happy for you,' she said, looking at the flushed teen on the bed  
behind her. 'Really I am. It's good to see you content for once.'

Artemis sat up beside her. 'We'll both need to make  
a more concentrated effort to keep in touch now, and not just rely on  
the next disaster.'

'Definitely. Gods, imagine that! A normal meeting. You've never seen  
me off duty have you? Not once.'

He shook his head. 'Though I live for the day.'

They looked at each other for a moment, sat side by side on the  
antique quilting, snow-flakes blustering against the windows.

'Well,' sighed Holly. 'I'd better get going or Trouble will think  
you've kidnapped me... again.'

Artemis grimaced. 'Did you have to bring that up?'

'It was a joke, Arty,' she laughed, getting up and giving him a gentle  
thwack to the upper-arm. 'Tell your face.'

He reached over and collected her helmet from the nearby locker.

'Until the next time then,' he said, holding it out to her.

Holly finished securing the last clip of her wing rig and accepted the  
helmet, slipping it over her ears and flicking the visor up to keep  
her face in view. She nodded.

'Until the next time.'

They hugged, tightly and warmly.

'Don't leave it too long now,' warned Holly, with her arms still  
wrapped around his neck. 'I don't want to call you in ten years time  
and find you've forgotten all about me.'

Artemis shook his head gently, his cheek rocking against hers. 'You  
know that's never going to happen.'

She smiled sadly and made for the window, undoing the latch and  
flinging it wide.

'Take care, Arty!' she shouted, struggling to be heard above the roar  
of the wind. 'And Happy Christmas!'

She turned away, bunched her legs beneath her and shot straight into  
the December night. Artemis hurried to the window.

'Merry Christmas!' he called after her, just managing to catch a last  
glimpse of a pair of boots as Holly Short shimmered out of sight.

Descant Brill had never been the most balanced of people, physically  
or mentally. This was a handy quality to have when it came to working  
for someone like Opal Koboi, but definitely a hindrance when it came  
to not tripping up on Georgian shag carpeting.

'Oof!'

His twin whipped around.

'Shhhhhh!' he hissed. 'You wanna wake the whole house?'

Descant grimaced and rubbed at his newly bruised knee. 'No.'

'Well be careful then!'

'Well be careful then,' mimicked Descant, once his brother had turned  
away. 'What do you think I'm being? Just because Mistress let you eat  
the good cheese today...'

Mervall ignored him and continued to climb up the stairway, wary of  
the hidden motion detectors that his stolen LEP helmet was usefully  
pointing out to him.

'Is this the last thing on the list?'

Descant consulted the smudged script inked on the back of his hand.  
'Yep,' he confirmed. 'We got all the rest. This is the last stop.'

Mervall sighed warily. 'Extrilliant. We can grab this one and be back  
to the lab by midnight.'

He clambered up the last step and pulled his brother up after him,  
scampering along the new landing. Oil-painted portraits glared down at  
their progress, their dead eyes glittering strangely. Descant  
shivered.

'This is so creepy,' he whispered. 'It's like they know what we're about to do.'

Mervall rolled his eyes. 'Pull it toget-'

'Santa?'

Both brothers yelped and jumped in the air. Stood not two metres away  
was a human child, pyjama-clad and tired-eyed.

'Is that you Santa Claus?' yawned Beckett Fowl. 'Why're you s'small?'

The two pixies looked at each other.

'Well-' began Mervall.

'You see-' attempted Descant.

'That,' spoke another voice, 'is definitely not Father Christmas.'

The brothers yelped again as yet another child appeared from behind  
the first, his expression decidedly more alert.

'If you observe closely, brother,' continued Myles Fowl  
matter-of-factly, 'you will notice the distinct lack of facial hair  
and general rotundness. They also appear neither jolly nor kindly, and  
are unburdened by the customary sack of presents. In fact,' the child  
jabbed an accusing finger at the large bag trailing over Descant's  
shoulder, 'their sack appears to be completely empty!'

'Then who are they?' whispered Beckett, looking to the  
brother who always had the answers to his questions.

Myles tapped thoughtfully at his chin, furrowing his tiny brow. 'I  
would surmise that they are elves, Beckett, banished from their North  
Pole workshop for naughtiness and enlisted by the Grinch to do his  
dirty work and steal our presents!'

Beckett was scandalised. 'No!'

Descant shook his head violently. 'We're not elves!' he protested.  
'We're pixies!'

'That's even worst!' thundered Beckett, with as much force as a three  
year old can thunder. 'My Mum _hates_pixies!'

Mervall clapped a hand over his brother's mouth.

'_You're right!_' declared Mervall, staring into Beckett's eyes, his  
voice now dripping with the hypnotic _Mesmer_. _'We're pixies, from the__  
__North Pole, come to pay you a friendly visit!_'

Beckett's enchanted eyes filled with tears.

'But we've been good all year!' he cried, voice cracking. 'You can't  
steal our toys!'

Descant broke free of his brother's grip.

'We're not stealing your toys! We're stealing your-!'

Mervall clasped a hand back over his twin's mouth.

_'Go back to bed_,' he ordered, glancing between Myles and Beckett,  
making sure they were both under his spell, _'and when you wake__  
__tomorrow morning this will all have been a dream._'

Myles frowned. 'But-'

_'A dream!_' insisted Mervall, cascading his magic down on the little boy's head.

Myles' eyes glazed over again. 'A dream,' he nodded, tugging vaguely  
at his twin's sleeve. 'Come on, Beckett. Sleep now. Dream. Pixies.'

Both henchmen watched tensely as the youngest Fowl's made their way  
back inside their bedroom and closed the door softly behind them.  
Mervall dropped Descant with a loud sigh.

'Come on,' he snapped, shoving him forward. 'Let's get this over with.  
Before any more of them wake up!'

The two pixies hurried along the corridor, trying their best to keep  
close to the shadows.

'Here,' panted Mervall, pointing to a doorway up ahead, 'He's in here.'

Descant nodded, reaching inside his belt and bringing out a battered  
omnisensor. He pointed it at the security lock and it whirred softly,  
working away. A normal omnisensor would have failed to release this  
lock, but Descant's omnisensor was Opal-made. There was a steady  
thunk from the door handle and Descant nodded; they were free to  
enter.

The room was pitch-black inside but this was no problem for the twins  
in their stolen LEP helmets. They manoeuvred round each piece of furniture  
and occasional Angeline-placed reindeer to stealthily approach the  
bed. There was a blanketed lump gathered at the very centre, curled up  
and apparently fast asleep.

Mervall reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small atomiser,  
stretching his hand up towards the pillows. Descant grabbed his wrist,  
eyes wide.

'It's okay,' mouthed Mervall, nodding to the pill bottle on the  
bedside cabinet. 'He's taken those sleeping tablets Argon always  
prescribes.'

Descant nodded and warily released his grip, watching as his twin  
turned again to his target. There was a stifled moan from the bed and  
a tsunami of blankets suddenly rose up from the mattress, engulfing  
Mervall in cream sheeting. The pixie closed his eyes tight, waiting  
for the quilts to settle, and when they did, he slowly opened his  
eyes... to find the Mud Boy's sleeping face barely an inch from his  
own. Unsure of what else to do, Mervall simply froze and he felt his  
brother impatiently tap at his back.

'Have you sprayed him yet?' hissed Descant.

The human's eyes snapped open, and focused straight in on Mervall's  
terrified own.

Both pixie and teenager yelped, rearing backwards.

'Spray him!' yelled Descant. 'Quick!'

Mervall desperately pumped the device in his hand, praying that he'd  
hit his target, but the human continued to move backwards, falling  
with a tremendous thump off the far side of the bed.

Descant passed his brother and scrambled up onto the mattress, gazing  
after the tumbled teenager.

The pixie grinned widely. 'He's out!' he called. 'Looks like you just  
caught him.'

Mervall sighed with relief, joining his brother to look at the  
unconscious human. His long, cotton-clad legs were still entangled  
with his blankets and his pale arms were stretched out spread-eagled  
on the carpet.

'Let's go,' panted Mervall, finally recovering his voice. 'We've got  
to get him back to the house before mistress wakes for her morning  
toe-massage.'

Opal Koboi had always liked the idea of Christmas. It was the one rare  
thing she could actually admire the Mud Men for. All the greed, the  
luxury, the indulgence, the chocolate; (Gods the _chocolate_!) it was a  
wonderful idea; a fabulous idea! So this year she'd decided to have  
one of her own. She'd compiled a list of things she wanted to be given  
by her henchmen, some things unreasonable, some things impossible, but  
all of them _essential_ if Mervall and Descant ever wanted to feel their  
limbs again. She'd granted them three days in which to collect  
everything, after which they would have to promptly present them to  
her. Gift-wrapped.

And so the morning of December 25th arrived and with it an exhausted  
pair of pixie twins.

'Well?' demanded Opal, descending the stairs of her hi-jacked English  
mansion (its previous owners lying mesmerised in the cellar). 'Where  
are my presents?'

'Here, Your Most High Opal-ness!' gasped Mervall, careful to avoid  
looking directly at his mistress. 'All here!'

Descant gestured floridly to the various boxes and packages piled up  
around the hallway, also keeping his eyes to the flagstones.

'And did you get all that I asked for?'

The twins swallowed.

'We think so, your Liege-esty.'

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously and approached the first package.  
It chirruped frantically. With one slash of her acrylic claws the  
wrapping was ripped aside, revealing a small caged bird complete with  
long, orange tail and scarlet crest.

Opal gasped delightedly. 'A Mexican plume-headed wagtail!'

Mervall smiled, sensing they were onto a winner. 'We thought that  
Mistress could use its liver to boost the strength of her _Mesmer_.'

The she-pixie grinned evilly at the creature behind the bars. 'Yes.  
Yes, he would be _perfect_.'

She clapped her hands excitedly and ripped open the next nearest  
present; an oblong box tied with a thick pink ribbon. This time she  
actually squealed.

'The new Jimmy Choo Edens!' She squealed, clutching at the shiny  
leather platforms as if they were offspring she'd just saved from a  
blaze. 'They are perfect!'

Mervall and Descant grinned at their employer, chests puffing with pride.

Opal noticed their open gazes.

'DON'T LOOK AT ME!'

Over the next three and a half hours Opal continued to slash her way  
into every present. Most packages included shoes, more included rare  
animals for her twisted magic-enhancing experiments, others were a  
little more unusual, ('A chocolate truffle built in the shape of  
Michael Jackson? You shouldn't have!') but every one was gratefully  
received. After all, they were expected.

'Well!' demanded Opal round a mouthful of King-of-Pop delight. 'Is that it?'

Mervall shook his head frantically. 'Oh no, One Of The Most Beautiful  
Aura of Wonderfulness! We have one more gift left to give!'

'Just one more?' she sulked, sat in the centre of a sea of wrapping  
paper, all her new creatures roaring, barking, screeching and cooing  
around her. 'It had better be a good one.'

'Oh it is!' assured Descant, backing hurriedly out of the room. 'It is!'

'Where is he going?'

'He's-'

'DON'T LOOK AT ME!'

Mervall clasped his eyes shut. 'My brother has just gone to fetch it,  
Your Most Incandeliciousness. It was putting up quite a bit of a fight  
earlier and we didn't want it to spoil you opening the first of your  
presents.'

Descant reappeared pushing a massive bow-tied box on a trolley.

'Here it is,' he gasped. 'The last one.'

Opal stood slowly from the floor, her eyes wide.

'Give it to me.'

Mervall quickly hurried to his brother's side, helping to wheel the  
trolley closer to their mistress. The giant present on top wiggled  
precariously.

'Stop!' ordered Opal, and they did, instantly.

There was silence.

'Open it,' she whispered.

Descant and Mervall rushed to release the tie. The front face of the  
box fell open.

'Oh,' gasped Opal, her tiny eyes actually filling with tears. 'It's  
just what I wanted.'

For inside the box was Artemis Fowl, a thick ribbon wrapped around his  
chest in order to hide the octobonds trussing his arms to his side. The  
pixie approached him slowly, taking in the gagged mouth and the  
ruffled pyjamas.

'Where did you get it?' she whispered.

Mervall licked his lips nervously. 'His house, Your Most Amazilicious.  
We took him from his house.'

'You must have really struggled to find one like it.'

Descant frowned at his brother,

_Has she gone mental?_he mouthed.

Mervall swiftly elbowed him in the ribs.

'Oh-no!' he simpered as Descant wheezed beside him. 'It was no  
struggle for you, Your One And Only. It was truly the most pleasant of  
tasks because we were doing it for you!'

Opal smiled the most terrible of smiles.

'You have done well, boys,' she purred. 'Very well.'

Artemis glared out warily at the pixie as her eyes slowly raked the  
entire length of his body.

'Mervall, Descant?' she called lightly.

'Yes, Your Gloriousness?' they chimed.

'Go and prepare my laboratory. I shall put this present straight to some use.'

_So Opal was happy, her day had been made, for she'd issued her orders__  
__and they were being obeyed. And she turned and exclaimed, as they__  
__drove Artemis out of sight..._

'Happy Christmas to all... and to all a good-night...'

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**No, Artemis has never had it particularly good in any of my fanfics.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A little more for anyone who's still interested :)**

**This is quite possibly one of my most favourite chapters ever to have written - so much fun...**

Disclaimer - Artemis would have kept that goatee if I owned those books.

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Chapter 2 - In Which The Turkey Really Hits The Fan

Having just been kidnapped, gift-wrapped and presented to Opal Koboi in a large novelty box, Artemis Fowl wasn't exactly enjoying his Christmas. He'd expected to be _given_ presents, not to _become_ one. He'd expected to be woken at five am by his twin _brothers_, not by twin _pixies_. He'd expected the first female face he saw on Christmas morning to be Angeline Fowl's and _not_ Opal Koboi's, leering down at him as if he were some giant steak she couldn't wait to bite a chunk from.

Mervall and Descant wheeled their teenaged cargo expertly to the mansion's kitchen, or as their mistress had now converted it to, _the laboratory_. It was just your average mad scientist work-space, complete with giant, mysterious machine, a super-computer, several cages containing prowling carnivores, and two ominous looking strap-boards nailed to the breakfast-island.

'Where shall we park him?' wondered Descant.

Opal pushed her way past the swinging saloon doors and swept grandly into the room.

'Over there,' she directed, flicking a hand. 'I want him out of the box and strapped to the table.'

Artemis didn't like the sound of this. He flexed his arms desperately against his bonds but it was futile; he was tied too tight. He felt Mervall and Descant push him further into the room. Light flooded into the box as the front was flipped down. The teenager snarled a warning to them through his gag, his furious eyes offering enough of an intelligible translation for the two henchmen.

_Touch me, _his features told them, _and you will regret it._

Mervall swallowed and glanced nervously at his twin. 'I think I'll just go fetch the sedative...'

'No!'

Both pixies jumped.

'No,' repeated Opal, slowly approaching the box. 'I want him to be conscious for this.' She looked her unwilling captive straight in the eyes. 'I want him to know every _second _of it.'

Artemis had never hated someone more in his entire life.

Opal smiled and went back to adjusting her controls. Mervall and Descant winced. Move the human while it wasn't sedated? Mud Men were dangerous creatures when cornered, and this one looked to be no exception.

'What do we do?' hissed Descant. 'He looks like he wants to kill us.'

Mervall frowned. 'We'll just have to tighten the octobonds,' he decided, 'and make sure he can't wriggle about.'

Artemis' heart was racing. He couldn't let them tighten his bonds. If that happened it would be all over. He'd be carried off and strapped tight to that board like a Christmas turkey on a baking-tray: stuffed. Opal could do, and would do, whatever she wanted to him.

'Have you got the remote?' asked Descant.

'No,' replied Mervall, his eyes narrowing. 'I thought _you_ had it!'

'_No, _I definitely gave it to you.'

The teenager struggled to his knees, the cables cutting harshly into the backs of his thighs and calves. Descant noticed out of the corner of his eye.

'He's trying to escape!' he yelped. 'The remote! Get the remote!'

Both twins scrabbled at the pouches on their belts. Artemis lurched desperately from the box, crawling worm-like towards the door, but it was too late. Mervall had pulled out the octobond's keypad and was pummelling the buttons. The steel wiring rolled and tautened against the Irish boy's skinny frame, forcing his spine and legs to straighten. He cried out against his gag.

Opal whipped around. 'Don't hurt him!' she screamed, eyes blazing.

Mervall and Descant were more than a little surprised.

'What?' they chimed, fingers frozen above the keypad.

Opal rushed to Artemis' side.

'_Heal,_' she breathed and burgundy sparks streamed from her finger tips, sinking into the teenager's body. His bruises were wiped away, his muscles freed from the ache of sustained tension.

There was silence but for the soft bleeping the machine.

'He is not to be harmed,' hissed Opal, brushing a long sheaf of raven hair back over her shoulder. 'Do you understand me?'

'Yes, Mistress,' murmured the twins.

'Good.'

Artemis watched her get up and stride back to the bench.

_Why would she bother to heal me if I am about to be murdered? _

'MERVALL, BRILL! _MOVE!_'

'Y-yes, Mistress!'

Ten minutes later, Artemis had been lifted from the floor and strapped securely to one of the two boards that lay in the centre of the laboratory. Almost every bare patch of skin had been swabbed with fairy disinfectant and wired tabs had been pressed to his temples and pressure points. Opal had directed her minions very specifically in their placement, as she was unwilling to actually touch the human herself.

'And now for myself,' she muttered, settling herself on the board next to Artemis and pressing a tab to her wrist.

The teenager glared at her.

'Mervall,' snapped Opal, noticing his attentions. 'Ungag our friend here. I believe he wishes to communicate.'

'What are you doing?' demanded Artemis, as soon as the tape was ripped from his lips. 'What is _that_?'

Opal glanced up at the mechanical behemoth behind her. All the leads that trailed from the human and herself all led up to that machine. Every now and then its circuits would crackle ominously and the sirens on top would flash and whine causing a tirade of howls and screeches to erupt from the animal cages built into the far wall.

She grinned nastily. 'You'll just have to wait and see won't you? I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise.'

'Opal,' seethed the teenager. 'This isn't a _game_. We are obviously both involved in this.'

'I know! How very unusual this all is.'

'_Opal_.'

'Oh shut up!' she snapped, moulding the last tab in place at her temple. 'You're boring me. Descant! Mervall! The straps!'

Both pixies shuffled hurriedly forward, folding each strip of polymer carefully over their employer and securing the clasps.

'Tighter!' ordered Opal.

They glanced warily at each other before yanking the straps as taut as they would go.

Her cheeks flushed scarlet. 'Good. Now activate the machine!'

Mervall scurried over to the computer bank and flicked open the Perspex security-case of a large, scarlet button.

'No!' cried Artemis, raising his head the little he could off the board. 'You don't have to do that! Look! Opal is incapacitated. You have a chance to leave this house a _free pixie_. I could reward you Mervall, you _and_ your brother. All you have to do is release me...'

The pixie glanced at his brother, and then back to Artemis.

'Mervall.'

He jumped. 'Yes, Mistress?'

'Press the button.'

Mervall nodded. 'Yes, Mistress.'

Opal settled herself back again.

'Nice try, Fowl, but my servants are loyal only to _me_.'

Artemis knocked his head back against the board. _Think genius, think. There must be a way out of this._

Oh God.

Behind him, the mysterious machine roared into life, a thousand lights flaring up on its front. The siren on top grew in its whining, building and building. Above him, the kitchen light-fix began to rock, its crystal bulbs flickering like candles in a gale. There was a yelp from one of the pixie twins as crockery began to fall from their cupboards, smashing against the flagstones. The board at Artemis' back begin to shake.

'M-m-m-mistress!' screamed Descant, struggling to be heard above the roars of the animals and the rush of machinery. 'W-what's h-h-happening?'

Opal didn't answer, instead releasing a piercing cackle. Artemis could hazard a guess at why. The tabs had begun to crackle against his skin, sparking and burning. He hissed softly through clenched teeth remembering this familiar feeling from his time in the clinic. Almost every day for a month he'd been subjected to it as Argon had used electricity to force the teenager's mind into supplanting its own diseased subconscious.

'Opal!' he yelled as the lights above him swung dangerously. 'Turn it off!'

The pixie laughed maniacally. '_No!_'

The tabs on his arms felt like fires now, as if someone stubbing cigars out against his bare skin. The feeling was spreading deeper.

'_Opal_!'

She twisted her head to face him, grinning wildly. Artemis stared back into her blackened eyes and realised they would probably be the last things he'd ever see.

Then the heat hit their temples and both pixie and human screamed like they never had before.

Life froze. Plates hung in the air, Mervall Brill was silenced mid cry, the machine's pistons ceased to pump. Artemis Fowl drifted.

_So this is what it's like to die, _he thought, _how- _

Then the engine began to rip the soul from his bones.

Needless to say, it hurt.

Artemis' body protested with every inch of its being. His lungs heaved. His heart thundered. Then his mind screamed as it was wrenched free from its housing, leaving behind a single glittering thread of subconscious.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

Everything was moving. Light, time, the earth, the heavens. He was spinning, whirling, where, he didn't know. Something flashed in the darkness. Someone.

Opal_?_

A face appeared, wide-eyed and terrified. Artemis crashed into it. Plates smashed, Mervall cried, pistons pumped and then... blackness.

When Opal came to she was accompanied by a terrific headache.

'Oh Mistress!' wailed a voice. 'Oh please wake up! _Please_!'

Warily she opened her eyes. It was still dark.

'Have you got the smelling salts?'

'No. I couldn't find any. But I found this bowl of potpourri...'

She tried to sit up, but something was stopping her.

'_Well go look again!'_

Opal opened her eyes. Something was swaying in the shadows above her. The... light? A light-shade perhaps? Yes. That was right. She was in a kitchen wasn't she? A mudman kitchen. The shadows became more defined, and she could see blackened strikes scored into the ceiling. But what had caused that? She would have to ask.

'Mwgarrah.'

Mervall and Descant near jumped out of their skins.

'The human! It's waking!'

Descant sprang back from his Mistress' body and looked instead to the teenager lying on the bed beside her.

'What should we do? Stun him?'

'No!' croaked Opal, then gasped.

That voice!

She lifted her head blearily and stared down her body.

_Oh Gods._

Her boobs had gone. That was the first thing to register. Her symmetrical, perfectly spherical, _pride-and-joy_ boobs... had gone. There was nothing stopping her from staring down at her bare feet, her new, size eight, _human_ feet. There was nothing to mound atop her skinny chest, nothing obscuring her vision of her now _insanely _long legs, insanelylong, skinny, and _teenage_ legs. She tilted her head and looked down at her arms, her new skin. Pale. She should have expected that really. Her flesh was now the colour of milk... but that could easily be fixed with a little _St Tropez_.

She cackled happily before smiling a certain vampire smile.

It had worked.

She had stolen the body of Artemis Fowl.

Mervall narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

'I think our Mistress would prefer you to be asleep,' he decided, reaching for the sedative gun on the work top, 'at least until she isn't.'

Opal attempted a screech, but all her new voice box allowed was a sort of cracked howling.

'I _am_ your Mistress!' she crack-howled. 'Now release me this instant before I melt you both down and use your juices for footbalm!'

Descant dropped the potpourri.

'_Mistress_?!'

The newly teenaged pixie she-devil wailed furiously. '_YES_!'

The twins rushed to her side, scrambling to pull the straps away from her lengthened arms and legs. Opal fought her way free from the last of her bonds, flinging them impatiently aside. She sat up quickly and the blood drained from her face. Mervall had to grab her shoulders as she tilted.

'Wow,' he grunted, staggering a little as she leaned on his head. 'Do you want to lie back down, Mistress?'

I'm fine,' she snapped, 'just a little... off-balanced_._'

She closed her eyes and grimaced against the wooziness.

'Ergh,' she muttered, puckering her mouth. 'He even _tastes _like Mud Man.'

With a firm push against the bed-board, and not a little support from Mervall, Opal Koboi stood on her bare two feet, marvelling as she did so at her renewed proximity to the ceiling. She stretched a hand up and flicked a single crystal of the lop-sided lamp not so far above her. Now _this _she could get used to...

'Mistress?'

She looked down to find Descant's large chocolate-eyes looking tentatively up at her. His nose was just about level with her knees.

'What?' she demanded, resenting the distraction.

'It's- It's your... your old body, Mistress,' supplied Mervall, still holding his arms out to her in case she fell. 'What- what would you like us to do with it?'

Opal turned her mix-matched eyes to look at the small figure still lying unconscious on the breakfast-island. She approached it slowly, almost hesitantly, like a child approaching an open coffin at a wake. With long, pale fingers, she brushed the hair from her own abandoned face.

'Take him down and lay him on the floor.'

Mervall and Descant glanced at each other. '_Him, _Mistress?'

A truly malicious smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

'Yes. Him.'

Artemis felt like someone had removed his brain, installed a clapper in its place, and used his skull as a bell. This was actually a good sign, as frankly after Mervall had plunged that red button and the machine had jolted into life, the teenager hadn't expected to feel anything ever again.

_Yes_, he decided as further waves of agony assaulted his cranium, _definitely a good thing._

Voices were murmuring somewhere close to him, where exactly he couldn't tell, but the red shadows shifting against his eyelids told him that the room had been relit. Had Opal woken too?

'Did you manage to capture the henchmen?' asked a gruff voice from near his feet.

The reply was swift. 'Yes, Sir. We caught them just as they were attempting to board their escape shuttle.'

'Good work. Make sure they're properly secured.'

'Yes, Sir.'

Commander Kelp? He was here? And they'd captured Mervall and Descant. Had they also captured Opal?

'Artemis!'

This voice caused the teenager's chest instinctively to lurch.

'Artemis, Gods, are you alright?'

_Never better_, thought the teen wryly. He opened his eyes but quickly shut them again, the light burning his irises. He opened his mouth instead, to attempt a rasped reply, but another beat him to it.

'I'm fine, Holly, really. '

_What? _thought Artemis, still not completely with it. _Is somebody mimicking me?_

'Are you sure?' continued Holly. 'This room's trashed. You must have been involved in a struggle.'

The pretender spoke again. 'A few shots were fired. Most of them missed and hit the furniture.'

The elf laughed. 'Yeah, I can believe that.'

Footsteps moved closer to where Artemis lay.

'But at least one of them hit their target.'

The teenager tried to move an arm, tried to sit up, but his head screamed in protest. He moaned faintly. It didn't sound quite right.

'She's awake!'

'Get her up.'

Rough hands gripped at his forearms and he was wrenched upwards. Artemis protested weakly as his head throbbed with pain but he was powerless to resist. He opened his eyes warily. Commander Kelp was stood directly in front of him, his upper lip curling in disgust. This was not particularly unusual. No, the unusual thing was the level of the lip, which was a fair way above Artemis' head.

The teenager's eyes narrowed incredulously.

_What the Devil was going on?_

'Commander,' he slurred, 'have you grown-?'

He cut off, choking, horror-struck, on his own words.

_What had happened to his voice? Why did he suddenly sound so much like-?_

'What's that, _Koboi_? Have you got something to say for yourself?'

Artemis' eyes flicked to the elf stood directly beside Trouble. Holly Short was glaring down at him with an expression of deepest loathing etched into every plane of her face. The boy hadn't seen that face in a long, long time.

The figure at her shoulder folded their arms.

'Yes, _Koboi_,' they sneered. 'What _do_ you have to say now you have finally been defeated?'

Artemis' eyes slowly moved upwards, roving all the way from the figure's cotton pyajama bottoms, to their triumphant smile. His jaw dropped.

_No._

For his own face was sneering down at him, his own mix-matched eyes, his own tousled fringe, his own nose, his own lips, chin, forehead, jaws. The teen was speechless. His wide eyes shot downwards to his torso. He had breasts. That was the first thing to register. Two rounded, female, presumably functioning, mammary glands were mounding from beneath his dress. His _dress_. Those and two short legs, two horrifyingly short legs. He looked down at his hands, and saw claws, shiny, acrylic claws. They were pure Koboi. _He _was pure Koboi. He had taken the body of Opal Koboi.

'_You_...' he whispered, staring down at his tiny limbs which had each begun to shake. 'You_ evil_... you _twisted_...'

Holly laughed nastily and Artemis' heart sank. 'That's a good one,' she said. '_Opal Koboi _calling somebody _else_ twisted!'

The teenager felt panic begin to catch at his breath.

'Holly, please,' he said seriously, realising the danger his position potentially presented, 'you must listen to me. That machine, the one that's now in pieces, it switched us, Opal and I. _I'm_ Artemis!'

Holly blinked. '_What_?'

Opal however, showed no such surprise, her new face twisting into an expression of mild amusement.

'Oh that is tragic,' she drawled, catching the eyes of a few other sceptical fairies around the room. 'Getting a little desperate are we, Koboi?'

Trouble sighed, and gestured to a pair of foot-soldiers over his shoulder. 'Pull the other one Opal, it's got bells on. Jerick, Icarus, cuff her.'

'No!' Artemis struggled to be free of the hands that clamped down tighter on his forearms. 'I'm telling the _truth_! Holly, please, you _must _listen to me!'

Trouble turned to a sprite stood vigil by the kitchen doors. 'Nerbil! Have Qwan and No 1 arrived yet?'

The teenager froze, horror-struck.

'Yes, Sir! They're setting up in the next room, Sir. Foaly's just hitching up the other two pixies to the machines, Sir.'

'Excellent. We can wipe the lot of them right now and send them back where they belong.'

_No._

Artemis' head snapped to Opal. She was grinning at him maliciously from behind Holly's shoulder. The boy saw red, his pixie blood boiling with sudden, uncontrollable anger. He reared violently against the ones holding him.

'Give me _back_!' he roared, launching himself forward. 'Opal, give me _back_!'

The two soldiers clung to the pixie's arms, struggling to keep a hold on him. Holly moved protectively in front of Opal and raised her fists, ready to strike.

'Allow me,' interrupted a voice.

A massive pair of Armani-suited arms appeared from nowhere, wrapping themselves around Artemis' chest and lifting his flailing form six foot into the air.

The boy felt the air crushed from his lungs.

'Where do you want her?' growled Butler, turning to face Trouble.

The Commander smiled. 'In the next room, if you would be so kind.'

'My pleasure.'

Artemis choked.

'Butler?!'

'Yes, Opal,' grunted the bodyguard, ferrying him from the kitchen. 'Remember me? I was the one whose heart arrested because I refused to kill Artemis when you instructed.'

The teenager closed his eyes. His head was pounding, throbbing.

'No,' he said firmly. 'Butler, _I_ _am _Artemis. I am Artemis Fowl the Second! We have been together for fifteen years, and if you put me in that chair that will be where it ends.'

Butler heaved his charge into the contact room, LEP forces milling around his knees mingling with the lab-coated technicians. Foaly was stood at the back of the room, focusing intently on his mind-wipe machinery. He glanced up as the motley group entered and nodded stiffly to Trouble. This was serious. There were three high-backed dining chairs placed in the centre of the carpet, each wired and primed to go. Two were already occupied by the unconscious forms of Mervall and Descant. The third was empty, and waiting.

Butler dumped Artemis down, holding his thin arms to the wood until they'd been secured by the two waiting technicians. The boy stared up at him.

'Domovoi, please.'

Butler's brow flickered.

'You could have learnt that name anywhere,' he said, then turned and walked away.

Qwan and No1 stretched and stood at the back of the room, having completed the warm-ups needed to help their magic flow.

Artemis noticed his next chance. 'Number One! Yes! You can use your magic to _sense_ that it's me who's in here.'

The demon apprentice shook his head fiercely. 'I'm under strict instructions to come nowhere near you,' he said, joining his Master in the power-crouch position. 'I'm only here to send you home, where you belong.'

Holly had taken up a position by the left wall, making sure she wasn't in the way of any officials, but also allowing her a clear view of events. Opal stood beside her. She looked at Artemis, powerless once again, and gave a small grin. Things were progressing _perfectly_.

'Foaly!' barked Trouble, tapping his fingers impatiently against a _Chippendale_ sideboard. 'Are you all set? It's nearly day break and I want to get this over with.'

The centaur tapped a few last buttons. 'Just resetting the cerebral restrictors, Commander. It'll be ready in a few seconds.'

Two technicians stepped forward, a sleep mask held in the one's hand. The gnome looped it over Artemis' head from behind and quickly pressed the button. The teen had just enough time to cry out before slumping, unconscious in the chair. He didn't stand a chance.

Holly reached for the hand hanging beside her shoulder. Opal jumped, and looked down at the tiny fingers now squeezing her own. They felt surprisingly warm.

'Ready,' called Foaly, giving the thumbs up to a waiting sprite in a lab-coat. 'Start the sequence.'

The monitors at the back of the room began to stream with Gnomish text as the last six months were flushed from the pixie's, and consequently Artemis', mind. Mervall and Descant jittered slightly in their chairs, short limbs twitching like puppets on invisible strings. Approximately ten minutes later, the job was done, and several foot-soldiers unstrapped the three sleeping pixies from their bonds, slinging them over armoured shoulders.

Number One and Qwan stepped forward. The air tingled with magic and the hairs on two dozen fairy necks stood to attention. Runes began to spin, furniture to tremble, and a bolt of white lightening shoot towards Mervall, Descant, Artemis and their keepers, blasting them eight years into the past.

Trouble gawped openly at the ghostly imprints of his officers stood at the centre of the room.

'When will they be back?'

Qwan stretched his arms out and closed his eyes once again.

'Now.'

A crackling time-hole appeared in mid-air spewing three highly shaken soldiers onto the carpet. Trouble rushed to meet them.

'Sybil,' he barked to one coughing sprite. 'Are you alright?'

'Yes, Sir,' rasped the Captain. He got unsteadily to his knees. 'Mission accomplished, Sir.'

'Were there any problems?'

'No, Sir. We placed all three civilians in their beds and left without notice.'

Trouble sighed, clapping his officer once on the shoulder before standing.

'It's over,' he announced to the room at large. 'We're back to the _one_ Koboi.'

The room erupted into a round of weary applause, with plenty of wry smiles and relieved embraces. Over by the left wall Opal smiled softly.

_Not quite._

* * *

**DUN DUN DUUUUUUN**

**Feel free to check out any of my current fics:**

**Resurrecting Annie**

**Short Circuits**

**if you haven't quite had your fill yet :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**No editing; this is me circa 2010, babies.**

* * *

Chapter 3 - In Which Leather Comes Back In Fashion

Opal Koboi couldn't stop smiling. She stared around at her Fowl Manor bedroom with its trees, its snowmen, its baubles, its fifteenth-century Gothic balcony, and her grin widened all the more. After a short run-up she flung herself onto the canopied four-poster bed and cackled as she rolled in the sheets. Once cocooned in Artemis' silk blankets she grabbed the stereo remote poised on the bedside table.

_What is the mud-boy listening to? _she thought, releasing the standby button.

As soon as the first chord of muted brass reached her ears Opal purred.

_Oh, that's just _too_ perfect._

She tossed back the sheets and stood tall atop the mattress.

'_Hey, World, here I am!_'

With surprising agility (for the body she'd stolen) Opal leapt from the bed, landing cat-like on the antique carpeting below.

'_Don't tell me not to fly I've simply got to! __If someone takes a spill__ i__t's me and not you!__  
__Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade!'_

She sprung up, her eyes narrowing mischievously as she looked for something else to play with. From what she could see just scattered on his desk, there were plenty of options. But she decided to bypass technology for the time being and with a quick perusal of a rosewood side-panel, found a box of abandoned chocolates. Her eyes lit up.

_Could this day get any better? _

In the long months since that dratted lemur incident, Opal had found out everything she could about how her future life would progress. She had read all about her doomed collusion with Briar Cudgeon and the goblins of the B'wa Kell. How could she have been so _foolish_?! The police records stated she'd had _feelings_ for the bloat-headed buffoon, that he'd _used_ her. Imagine! An elf such as Briar Cudgeon taking advantage of _her_. She'd been thwarted that time, but a year later there had been new hope. She'd discovered how Mervall and Descant had broken her out of Argon's clinic, replacing her with a clone, and then how she'd undergone revolutionary surgery to become a human. She'd watched the video of the exploding Julius Root over seven hundred times. She'd played it, then reversed, played it, then reversed it, watching his body fly back together like the world's most macabre jigsaw puzzle. There had been a better plan that time. The probe and the stealth shuttle, the adoption of Giovanni Zito. Ingenious! But yet again, she had been foiled. She had been captured and locked in the deep in the depths of Atlantis Correctional Facility. She was still there.

It was a shameful history. Looking back (or forward, depending how you thought about it) she could easily spot the common factors which had resulted in her downfalls - they were always the same group of people: the elfin Captain, her old centaur rival, the giant mud-man and... the boy. Yes, they always had to work as a team in order to defeat her, but it had always been _the_ _boy_ who had provided the brains of the operation. Even in her own time it had been that wretched mud-child who had stopped her from achieving her goals, and when she'd travelled forward to thistime it had been _his_ high-flying diversion, _his_ concealed laser that had blasted her back to square one. The boy would obviously have to be dealt with. And so she had thought, from August to December, about what she would do. She knew that her previous attempts on the child's life had failed despite the involvement of trolls, bio-bombs and genetically modified super-leeches. She would have to think of something _different _this time_._

Opal had of course heard of the human proverb, _if you can't beat 'em, join 'em_. She had generally dismissed it in the favour of good old fashioned _revenge._ However one day a thought had occurred to her that built quite firmly on the foundations of that old adage and she had begun construction of her super-machine that very hour.

After all, if you can't beat 'em, _become_ them.

She sighed contentedly and headed for the en-suite.

* * *

In the not so very distant past (taking into account how distant the Earth's past truly is) Artemis Fowl was just waking up. He lay face down on the bed, his nose pressed deeply into a rare Beiber Bear pelt; a fact which he was, for the time being, blissfully unaware of.

_I hate time-travel, _mumbled his brain. Artemis groaned in response.

The last thing he remembered was being stood in his mother's bedroom, naked but for his best boxers. Wait, hadn't there had been someone else there as well? That was right. It was Holly, in a swim suit, holding his hand.

He snorted into whatever material was tickling his face.

_What a strange dream._

His hands clenched in the fur below him and he pushed upwards.

The first thing to come into focus was his pillow, or more specifically, the face of his pillow. He stared, bleary-eyed, at the glassy gaze and the frozen snarl beneath him... then he realised what it was. Artemis reared backwards, the taxidermy fox grinning maliciously up at him, and in his scramble, the rest of the room grew within his vision. The bed he had woken on was large and circular, draped and canopied with plush sheets of fur. At its head lay a large variety of mammal-faced comforters and cushions, arranged neatly by colour and texture, with Artemis' fox placed proudly at the centre; its skin stretched and sewn into the world's most repulsive cylindrical bolster. The walls were hung with red velvet and mounted at intervals by severed animal-heads, of varying species and size. The head at the far end of the room, the crowning glory of a gigantic dressing-table complete with stage-mirror and throne, was undeniably human.

Artemis's chest heaved, panic threatening to shut him down.

_Calm down. Calm down. There must be an explanation for this._

But it wouldn't come. Emotion - raw, undisciplined emotion was battering at his senses in a way he had never felt before. It was frightening, unprecedented. He put a hand up to where his heart was threatening to punch through his ribcage. There was a lump. He looked down.

'AGHHHHHHH!'

* * *

Opal Koboi switched off the shower, walked casually out of the stone wet-room, and ran a hand casually through her sopping hair. She has to admit that she likes it short; it has taken her much less time than usual to perform her rinse and repeat, rinse and reapeat, rinse and repeat, shower shampoo routine. As she passes a mirror on the way out of the bathroom she pauses.

'Hmm,' she murmurs, twisting until she can see her back properly, 'what an ugly birth-mark.'

* * *

There is a knock at the door.

'Mistress?' calls a voice. 'Is everything okay?'

Artemis is frantically patting his hands down the entire length of his body, releasing a short shriek after each and every unusual anatomic discovery. He wants to stop, the shrieking that is, but whatever mouth he's wearing seems to find it as a natural way of releasing tension.

Opal strode into the bedroom, humming some classical mud-man song her new mind is rather fond of. She approached the wardrobe and flung it open. Her mouth twists in disdain as she's met with layer upon layer of grey, navy and black.

_Wrong wardrobe_, she decided, _human teenagers don't wear suits._

Descant tentatively pushed the door open.

'Mistress_?_' he ventured, peeping his face just around the door frame. 'Are you alright?'

Artemis is anything but. He stares up at the pixie with eyes wide, pale hands clutched to the front of his wolf-skin sleeper-suit.

'_What has happened to me?_'

* * *

Opal stood back in front of the original wardrobe, having been reminded, quite forcibly by her new mind, that the teenager she was currently occupying most certainly _did _wear suits.

And so she flicked her hands through them, her frown deepening after every outfit.

_I thought this boy was rich? Where is the fur? Where is the lycra, the _colour_? _

She pulled out the very last coat-hanger and held it out before her. The clothes were crumpled, the expected result of being stuffed to the back of a teenage wardrobe, but they were certainly preferable to everything else.

There was a soft knock at the door.

'Enter,' she called.

The door swept open.

'I'm sorry to disturb you, Master- Oh!'

The pixie caught a glimpse of the maid's very red, very horrified expression before the door slammed shut again.

Opal scowled.

'If Mervall or Descant ever looked at me like that,' she hissed, 'I'd turn both their heads into cacti.'

She turned away from the bed and put her hands on her hips.

'Now. Underwear.'

* * *

Descant was more than a little confused.

'What- what has _happened_ to you?' he repeats, his expression moving back and forth from worry to fear.

Artemis stared down at his hands.

_And I dreaming? Is this just a bad dream?_

But it felt too real for a dream.

_Well of course you'd think that... if you were dreaming._

Then why can't I remember anything? You'd think I would remember this.

_Number One sent you and Holly back in time. He told you he was a novice. Maybe a few things went wrong?_

Artemis shuddered.

Many, _many_, things.

He looked up sharply and Descant flinched.

'What day is it?'

The pixie bit his lip. Was this another one of Opal's weird trick questions?

'T-Tuesday.'

'And the date?'

'T-The twenty forth of December.'

'And the year?'

Descant told him.

Artemis returned to hyperventilating.

* * *

Twenty minutes later and Opal was fully dressed, striding down the halls as if she'd lived there all her life, which, she supposed, she had. As she reached the second level more and more staff seemed to be appearing, carrying miniature Christmas trees and boxes over-flowing with tinsel. Some of them were acting in a way she wouldn't have expected, either openly glaring at her or sniggering into whatever festive thing they happened to be holding as she passed. The pixie scowled haughtily.

_Don't worry_, her mind consoled her, _when I am Princess of the universe I shall have them all melted into chutney._

A large man strode out of a room ahead, his bald crown shining in the light of a low-hanging candelabrum. Opal felt her stomach tighten.

When Artemis had been ousted from his own brain his most important memories and connections had been left behind, imprinted on the walls of his mind like so much handy cerebral sticky-notes. Opal had been finding them most useful in aiding her impersonation of the boy. At least for now. For other things had been left behind in Artemis' wondrous cranium that she would later find less appealing.

'Artemis!' greeted the man before her. 'You're awake!'

_Domovoi Butler_, informed her mind, _my oldest and dearest friend. I would truly die for this man, as he once did for._

Opal watched his approach wearily.

_If anyone is going to figure out that I am not the boy, it is this giant mud-man._

'Butler,' she smiles, forcing her lips to shift into position, 'how pleasant to see you.'

The manservant frowns. 'I can tell. Just don't pull that face at any of the girls tonight. We don't want any tears at Christmas.'

Opal is confused by this statement so chooses to simply widen her gurn. Butler's frown deepened.

'I must be going,' she says, deciding it would be a wise thing to get away from this formidable man as soon as possible. 'I have plenty of... Fowl things to be getting on with.'

Butler's eyes narrowed. 'Are you alright, Artemis?'

Opal fought not to give herself away and, surprisingly, her new body was happy to help. She felt her face slide into an image of perfect composure.

'I'm fine,' she said brightly, 'perfectly contented. I was a little shaken earlier, understandably after last night's events, but I have since recovered completely.'

The manservant looks unconvinced. 'You're wearing cycle shorts, Artemis. Neon cycle shorts.'

Opal looked down at her faintly glowing thighs. 'And?' she snaps, returning her gaze to the bigger man. 'These were the tightest things I could find.'

Butler pauses, briefly, in order to take this statement in.

'And you... _like _tightness?'

Opal clucks her tongue impatiently. 'Well not in _everything_, obviously. With things like whips, for example, the material _needs_ to be looser. But when it comes to guns, men, and clothes, yes, they need to be tight. What better way to present yourself as a being of power?'

The manservant looks at his charge. 'Artemis, I am going to ask you this one last time. _Are you alright_?'

Opal rides his gaze out steadily. 'Yes. I am.'

'You know what Dr Argon said about trauma increasing the risk of relapse. If you start to feel compulsive, or paranoid, or different in _any way_ you must let me know. The sooner we get you underground, the sooner they can fix you.'

Opal rode out his gaze steadily.

'Don't worry, I will.'

Butler watched him for another few seconds, before nodding stiffly and walking past her up the corridor. He needs to find Angeline. _Now_.

Opal stayed where she was, the cogs of her new, magnificent, and ever-still-so-conniving, mind, turning and clicking, sparking with possibility.

_Underground? _she thought maliciously, her thin lips twitching into a genuine smile, _I suppose it's about time I paid sister a visit..._

* * *

**Ah, dear! These have got a decent amount of attention so far! Fair do's...**

**Now go and check out my current fics:**

**Short Circuits**

**Resurrecting Annie**

**Oh, and review.**


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